


Can You Just Hold Me

by jell_0_shot



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 17:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4445321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jell_0_shot/pseuds/jell_0_shot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short fic based on a prompt from one of my Tumblr followers about Ben and Leslie a few weeks after the triplets are born</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can You Just Hold Me

There was a ticking in Ben’s head.

It arrived a couple of weeks after the triplets were born and had apparently decided to take up residence in his mind. Normally, it dulled into the background like an analogue wall clock. But every now and again, it became a beating drum so loud his head hurt.

The drumming usually occurred at the end of the day, when blankets and bottles littered their home. He used to find Leslie’s chaos of a house endearing, but this whirlwind of baby mess was making him spiral. The triplets were turning his life upside down, and he was clinging onto any type of order that he could.

Tonight had been particularly bad; Stephen had gone to sleep effortlessly, but Sonia and Wesley had decided to have a screaming match. Sonia won, which had then set Leslie off crying. When Ben had asked what was wrong, she just mumbled nonsensically about how her daughter was going to grow up into such a strong women who wouldn’t take any crap from screaming men.

Leslie had collapsed onto the couch once they were finally all down but Ben had began tidying. She’d told him to just relax multiple times, fuelling his compulsion to keep cleaning.

“Babe, seriously. Just sit down for five minutes, we’re allowed that much.” She pushed the bag of nappies off the couch cushion next to her, leaving a space for him.

Ben couldn’t take his eyes off the nappies that were now scattered on the floor. He felt a pressure on his temples, a million clocks were ticking in his head. He piled the nappies into his arms, returned them to their spot on the shelf before turning to face a falling-asleep Leslie.

“The place is a mess, Leslie. There’s baby stuff everywhere. I made a system to organise everything and you’re completely disregarding it! You normally love systems?”

His voice was raised but Leslie was too exhausted to match pitch, “I do, I love systems. But honey, I am so unbelievably tired that I don’t have the energy for systems right now.”

Ben collected the numerous bottles freckling the table and stomped into the kitchen. The plastic sounded against the metal sink. His hands curled around the edge of the bench as his back arched forwards.

Leslie followed him and stood behind him, rubbing his spine soothingly. Eventually, he turned to see her. She stepped back.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I just… really need you right now.” His voice was cracking and he seemed so small. The kitchen walls were towering over his slight figure as he stood alone on the tiled floor. Leslie’s body softened.

“Can you just hold me?” It was the most desperate plea she’d ever heard her husband ask.

His hands were shaking as she twined her fingers with his, “I’m here for you, Ben. You know I always will be.” She pulled his palms behind her back before unlacing their fingers, reclaiming his skin as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

She asked him what had been going on.

“Ever since the babies were born, my head has been a mess. I’ve been going crazy trying to keep up with three new-borns, plus looking after you and dealing with work. I’ve been compensating the mess in my mind with trying to keep the house tidy.” He shrugged, “I don’t know, my head just hurts.”

Leslie leaned back and gave him a supportive smile, “We have triplets. I know we’ve barely had a chance to catch our breath, but we have triplets, Ben. That’s three whole babies. Three!” Her eyes were wide but she was still smiling, “The next few years are going to be a crazy tornado of wiping poop and making lunches and blowing little noses. Things are going to be a mess and we can’t control that, the only thing we can control is what kind of parents we’re going to be.”

“What kind of parent do you think I’m going to be?” He asked, sheepish.

“A very good one. With a cute butt.”


End file.
